
Class —h'sl) 35 ^j 
Book._.i54.]A/3 



COEXRICHT DEPOSIT. 



The Walls 
of Jrlamelin 



,-56^^ 






Copyrighted and Published 1922 6y Princeton University Press 
Printed by the Princeton University Press, Princeton, U.S.A. 



HAY, ^6 73 

DC1A704G74 



"Vvo 



I 



r 



TO 
BARBARA GARY KENNEDY 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 



For permission to reprint certain of the poems in this vol- 
ume the author thanks the editors of Scribner's Maga- 
zine, American Magazine, Everybody's Magazine, 
Ainslee's Magazine, and American Poetry Magazine. 



Contents 



I 

i have known beauty 3 

o singing hour of love 5 

love's memories 7 

MOTHS 10 

A HOMESPUN HEAVEN 11 

ONCE CAME A FLAME 13 

ON THE BREAKWATER 15 

MEMORY 17 

SWEETER, FAIRER THAN ALL THESE 18 

O NEVER SPRING RETURNS 21 

THE SHINING DARK 22 

SPRING IN PROVINCETOWN 23 

THE MARSH 1^ 

BEACH SAND 26 

RAGGED SAILORS 28 

SOON COMETH MAY 29 

A GRAY DAY 3I 
IN THE MIST 
LOVE WALKED WITH ME 



33 

34 



AND THEN CAME SPRING 36 

37 



O WHERE DOTH BEAUTY DWELL 



II 

THE TURNING TIDE 4I 

YOU WHO ONCE WALKED BESIDE ME 43 

THERE IS A SECRET MUSIC 44 

THE ENCHANTED WOOD 4^ 

BESIDE THE HEARTH 46 

IN A child's GARDEN 47 

LOVE TOOK THE SWIFTNESS OF WIND 48 

THE WISH I WISH TONIGHT 49 

I HUNG THE WALLS WITH HOLLY BOUGHS 5I 

THE ORACLE r2 

DEPARTURE ^3 

I SHALL RETURN 54 



ORCHARD TREES $^ 

WHEN SPRING RAN LAUGHING DOWN THE HILL 57 

THE END OF THE DAY 58 

BROTHERS OF THE WIND 59 

THEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA 61 

DEATH IN THE REEDS 63 

THE SHIP OF DREAMS 64 

NIGHT JEWELS 65 

THE QUEST 66 

GHOST SHIPS 67 

VANISHED SAILS 69 

BEAUTY DOTH EVER TEASE 70 

THE SHORES OF SLEEP 7I 

III 

AS I WENT DOWN TO PROVINCETOWN J $ 

THE LONG ROAD 78 

THE TRUANT 79 

heart's DESIRE 80 

who'll buy a rose 81 

silver pennies 82 

a preacher in the market 83 

day after day 84 

the gates of dawn 85 

IV 

THE TORCH-BEARERS 89 

PRINCETON, 1917 91 

TO H. C. B. 92 

V 

A CHRISTMAS CHARM 95 

NURSERY SONGS FOR CHRISTMAS EVE 96 

THREE SONGS FOR CHRISTMAS 98 

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 100 

VI 

THE WALLS OF HAMELIN IO3 



/ Have Known Beauty 

O rain-sweet loveliness of the warm earth, 
Returning with the May in green rebirth ! 
Thou who art beauty in the flowering grass, 
A singing in the summer winds that pass, 
A bird-note wild beside the violet sea, 
Or snow-drift blowing from the wild plum tree ! 
Thou wise interpreter of noisy years. 
Cherishing pain and glorifying tears. 
Depart not from me — be my light to mark 
The way unto the still, enfolding dark. 

What silent magic lights thy dreaming grace 
Filling the wind and every haunted place 
With memories of love — O wild and sweet 
The wind-blown grasses round thy rose-white feet ! 
That bird-song — doth it rain from yonder tree 
Or from remembered gardens by the sea 
Long years ago ? The sorcery of the moon 
Hath borrowed golden splendor from a noon 
Long vanished, when the blue skies dreamed above 
A wild earth singing round the feet of love. 

O loveliness of the enchanting earth ! 
Thou dream divine of beauty come to birth ! 
Thou art our love of life, our hate of death, 
Thou art our heritage — thou art the breath 
Of all our being in the sunlit years 



That hasten unto night. O loveliness, 
Be thou beside me with thy soft caress. 
Bring to mine ears, till sound shall come no more, 
The organ-swell of breakers on the shore, 
The robin's song from some white orchard tree 
Wind-tossed upon high cliffs beside the sea, 
The cry of fishing sea-gulls, shrill and harsh. 
Borne on the sea wind from the salt sea marsh. 

Bring thou the fragrance of dark, mountain pines. 
Of fern-rimmed pools, and skyward clambering vines 
Bring thou the warm scent of wide meadow spaces. 
The silence of old gardens, and still places 
Amid the beech woods ; bring the memory 
Of dreaming days beside the whispering sea 
And dreaming nights when interlacing spars 
Made shadowy patterns to enclose the stars. 
Beauty that having been shall always be ! 
Do thou enfold me with thy mystery 
Through all the years — a witchery, a flame, 
A melody, a sweetness beyond name. 

O loveliness of the enchanting earth ! 
O haunting splendor that doth stamp the worth 
Of all our hope of life and dream of death, 
Be with me — stir me — fill me with thy breath ! 
Lift up mine eyes upon the flowering light 
That takes a glory from the coming night. 
So may I say, when the last hour is spent, 
"I have known beauty" — and so sleep content. 



O Singing Hour of Love 

O singing hour of love ! 
O flower of dreams 
Fairer than stars above 
Clear running streams ! 

Thou only hast the key 
Of beauty's house, 
Beset with melody 
Under white boughs. 

All hues of changing light 
Are beauty's dower ; 
Breath of the coming night, 
And fading flower 

Wherewith the wind is sweet . . . 
All transient things 
Running with frail feet 
And fragile wings. 

She weaveth nets of dew 
For budding flowers ; 
She crowneth earth with blue 
And silver hours. 



■^5^ 



Knowing that death comes after, 
And the dark, 

She toucheth life with laughter ; 
And the lark 

Singeth alway her song : 
That earth is dear 
Because no hour is long, 
And night is near ; 

Singeth that love is sweet 
Under the sun. 
Because time runneth fleet 
For love begun. 



^>64^ 



Loves Memories 

Three seals upon my heart are set 
With magic light that lingers yet , 
Love's memories that shall not pass 
While sun is warm upon the grass, 
And moonlight sleeps upon the hill. 
Though the gray years work their will 
To dull the pain of beauty, Spring, 
With budding rose and bluebird's wing, 
Shall find me still remembering. 

One first taught me of the sea 

And all its faithless witchery ; 

Taught me joy of ropes and spars, 

Sailing under friendly stars. 

On the wide, warm-scented beaches. 

Where the nodding marsh-grass reaches 

Beckoning arms to golden light, 

We dreamed by day, we dreamed by night. 

Beach pea, beach plum, bayberry. 

Flowered in beauty ; the laughing sea 

Slowly climbed the pebbled shore, 

Tapping, tapping, at the door 

Of the green, inviolate earth. 

By the dreams that came to birth, 

By the dreams that linger still. 

Though the light pales on the hill, 



■^7^ 



Though the cliffs fail in the sea, 
Thy seal is set on memory. 

One called me once to walk with him 

In a far land beyond the rim 

Of barren days, where sunlight shone 

More golden-warm than heart has known 

Save on blue, Homeric seas, 

Or gardens of Hesperides. 

He laid a book before mine eyes. 

And all the singers, all the wise. 

Heart-broken dead became my friends. 

In the black night when doom descends 

He taught me law ; out of the dust 

He showed me beauty's upward thrust 

To life and light ; ah ! when no more 

His hand shall be upon the door, 

I shall not lose him — in each spark 

Of beauty singing in the dark. 

His voice shall come unto mine ear, 

And I shall know him somehow near. 

One came with tender, starry eyes 

Under the blue, unclouded skies. 

And all the green earth flamed with light, 

And beauty singing in the night. 

Life became a dream, a vision, 

A haunting light on streams Elysian, 

A fragrance of the wild grape crushed, 



A dew-flower in the dawn light hushed. 
By earth transformed and magic skies 
Her seal is set until life dies, 
And longer, longer, if there be 
Some echo of life's melody. 

Three seals upon my heart are set 
With magic light that lingers yet ; 
And the last sun-warmed, fragrant Spring 
Shall find me still remembering. 



•^9^ 



Moths 

I would not climb the lighthouse stair 
In the dim night, 

Because of little ghosts that flutter there 
About the light ; 

Pale, fragile, broken wings that beat 
Against the glass. 

Light as the fingers of the west wind sweet 
Upon the grass. 

O pale moths, in this dav/n of Spring, 
Hath one frail spark 
Of wonder drawn you broken, fluttering. 
Into the dark? 

O still and beautiful, brave death ! 
O swift, sweet pain ! 

To be made fey with beauty until breath 
Is softly slain ! 



-^ 10-^ 



A Homespun Heaven 

Some day when I have reached the end 
Of all the strength I have to spend, 
When shadows lengthen from the west 
And time has come to stop and rest, 
If heaven be a place apart 
Where peace is sealed upon the heart, 
I think I'll try my hand alone 
And build a heaven of my own. 

golden streets are fine, no doubt, 
And golden rivers flowing out 

By pearly gates ; such dreams evoke 
A joy, perhaps, for inland folk. 

1 want a sweep of sand and sea ! 
Beyond a wind-blown apple tree 
Tossing in the salty gale 

I want the sea-line and a sail ! 

I'll build my heaven where great winds come. 
Where bayberry and wild beach plum 
Spill their fragrance on the wind. 
Under gnarled, twisted apple boughs 
I'll find a spot to build love's house, 



^11^ 



With white-washed walls and hanging eaves, 
With moss-grown roof to match the leaves . . 
Still place of peace to heal the mind . . . 
Where windows open to the breeze 
And the sleepy drone of bees. 

I'll have a glass to scan the sky, 
To watch the plunging ships go by 
When comes the menacing, dull roar 
Of racing breakers on the shore. 
Upon my walls I'll have a row 
Of ten, wise, magic books I know. 
To bring all ages and all lands 
Within the stretching of my hands. 

I'll have a garden filled with phlox, 

Delicate, pale hollyhocks, 

Lavender and five o'clocks ; 

Each old-fashioned flower that grows. 

Berry bushes set in rows, 

And every lilac bloom that blows. 

O little heaven of heart's delight ! 
Here would I meet the enfolding night. 
Wishing for no eternal bliss 
More than such homespun heaven as this! 



^>12-^ 



Once Came a Flame 

My heart is saddened with dream, 
And mine eyes with the beauty of May, 
When the dawns under white boughs gleam. 
And the dusk empurples the bay. 

The marsh-grass breaks into flame 
At the passionate feet of Spring ; 
Only the heart is tame 
With long remembering. 

Once came a flame and a splendor 
With silver swiftness of light, 
More than the moon can render, 
More than the stars by night. 

Once was the vision given 
More transforming than death, 
And the ancient heavens were riven, 
And new stars shone — for a breath — 

But the sunlight pales on the earth. 
And a shadow sleeps on the sea ; 
The frail hours come to birth 
Untouched of minstrelsy. 



^13^ 



Love past can not rise with a dream, 

Nor youth be reborn with the May. 

Can a thought rekindle the first star's gleam, 

Or the rose-dawn of day *? 



-^14-^ 



On the Breakwater 

Here the long road hath ending; here at last 

The white dunes cease, and the gray rocks are massed 

Against the tearing fingers of the sea. 

Southward the moors are sweet with bayberry 

And all the shining stretches of the bay 

Glow with gold fire, or darken with the gray 

Of gliding shadows quenching the bright flame 

In tall marsh-grass that whispereth thy name. 

All loveliness hath ending — O my dear, 

It f alleth in a day or in a year ; 

After the sunrise cometh noon — and night, 

And darkness runneth on the heels of light. 

This is of love the bitter, tragic doom — 

To cease to be — ^to vanish from the room 

That once was bright with laughter and with Spring. 

New life shall be — new love have blossoming 

Under the pale, rose skies of breaking day. 

Under the scented branches of the May ; 

But never twice the miracle of dawn, 

Or love's feet flashing on the dewy lawn. 

Ah, my beloved, let me feel thee near. 

Seaward the channel lights are burning clear. 

And silver starlight kindles in the dark. 

Time hath not slain the wonder of the lark 

That sang love's dawn, nor dimmed the sunny ways 



Bright happiness hath overflowed our days. 
The plunging organ-surges of the sea 
Throb with a fuller, deeper melody ; 
And all the glowing spaces of the hill 
In Autumn's burnished hues are lovely still. 

Though loveliness hath ending in a sleep, 
The soul of all things fair doth vigil keep 
Within the heart, where the slow, kindly years 
Are garnered up beyond the touch of tears. 

Once from the cup of Spring Love poured to me 
The wine of all time past, all time to be. 



■^16^ 



J 



Memory 

I swore that all the beauty of thine eyes 
Should be a dream forgotten ; nevermore 
Thy presence near, thy hand upon the door 
To shake me with remem.bered agonies. 

And so I dreamed that all old things were slain . . 
Then some still night of stars, a breath of Spring, 
A fallen rose leaf, bluebirds on the wing . . . 
And all the dead past kindles into pain. 



4 17 -i^ 



Sweeter, Fairer tharz all These 

When the long sweep of drifted snow 

On fields where now the grasses glow 

With golden fire shall write the token 

That summer's scented wand is broken ; 

When on the hearth the ashes pale, 

And windows rattle in the gale 

Of driving sleet; when doors are barred 

Against the cold that freezes hard 

On creaking trees, whose boughs forget 

The Spring when April dews were wet ; 

When the still shadows gather round. 

And in the darkening room no sound, 

Either to comfort or to mock. 

Save the slow ticking of the clock ; 

Then, of the memories that throng 

Of happiness remembered long, 

I wonder which would shine most bright 

In the watches of the night. 

When the silent hours at last 

Recall the record of the past ! 



45-18-5^ 



I think the sweetest sound would be 
The fugitive, faint melody 
Of beauty's song ; the fairest sight 
The magic gleam of beauty's light ; 
The memory of loveliness 
That doth encompass earth and bless. 
The dawn light on midsummer morn, 
The wind's frail fingers in the corn ; 
White houses seen through orchard trees. 
And mimic villages of bees ; 
The white surf like a silver band 
To bind the blue sea to the land ; 
Meadows gay with golden rod. 
Ragged sailor, milkweed pod 
Ripe with spun-silk, creamy down 
To weave elf's cap, or fairy's gown. 

Sound of quail in meadows calling; 
Sound of hidden waters falling 
From a tumbling mountain stream 
To silent, secret pools where gleam 
The deep, still shadows of the trout. 
On green, cool wood roads winding out 
Through forest aisles, the busy tap 
Of woodpecker with fiery cap. 
On some lightning-blasted tree 
Engaging his shrewd husbandry. 



•^19^ 



But sweeter, fairer than all these 
Children's laughter on the breeze, 
Eager voices, busy hands, 
White feet flashing on the sands, 
Gold hair burning in the sun, 
Till the flying day be done. 
Sweeter, fairer than all these 
The thousand homespun memories 
That sunny hours of friendship give 
With men who make life great to live ; 
All the natural, kindly ties 
That bind men's hearts under the skies, 
Making life higher than the stars. 
And wider than all prison bars. 

O loveliness, by love set free 
From touch of pale mortality, 
Be with us still where shadows throng 
In some last strain of deathless song, 
Some glory of remembered light. 
To bring us beauty in the night. 



20^- 



O Never Spring Returns 

O never Spring returns 
Beside the hill, 
Or hawthorn blossom burns, 
But there is still 

Breath of a vanished May 
On bud and flower. 
Light of a vanished day 
In every hour ; 

When from the flowering dust 
Love's songs were made. 
And one swift, piercing thrust 
Of beauty's blade 

Opened the wound unhealing 
Until death, 

That aches with Spring's revealing, 
And the breath 

Of loveliness that passes 
Frail and fleet, 
Bending the summer grasses 
With unseen feet. 



7r2l -^ 



The Shining Dark 

Hark I From his shadowy station on the hill 
Waileth the unforgiving whip-poor-will, 
Unto the stars appealing once again 
With dazed reiteration of old pain ; 
The still, soft-stealing night winds touch and stir 
The slumbering branches of the scented fir. 
And the high stars with silver fingers mark 
The earth with beauty dreaming in the dark. 

O Love ! this very starlight is a dream 

Of fires extinct, and darkened orbs whence stream 

Long memories of light ; all time is one. 

And all that hath been is, under the sun ; 

Nor light is cleft from dark, nor dark from light. 

But both are beauty clothing day and night ; 

And no man knoweth joy and grief apart, 

But only love that kindleth in the heart. 

End and beginning, hope and memory. 

Pain that is song, grief that is melody. 

Death that is life, and life that knows no name . . 

All these shall still be one thing and the same ; 

Yea ! in the night between the worlds a spark 

Shall kindle beauty in the shining dark. 



•^22-^ 



spring in Province town 

Beauty hath made this land her own ; 
On sand and sea, on lichened stone, 
Her mark is set — a long caress 
Of dreaming light, a loveliness 
Of form and hue, a witchery 
That haunts the margins of the sea- 
Pale gold of dawn on crumbling slips 
Where drowse the fettered, restless ships; 
White glare of blazing, cloudless noons 
On the hot stillness of the dunes ; 
Upon the bar 'round bleaching hulls 
A ceaseless crying of the gulls. 

Child, child, so gay, so sure. 
Trusting morning to endure ; 
While the golden hours run 
Finding love and beauty one ! 
When love and loveliness are blended 
What shall be when love is ended? 
When the words of love are spoken, 
When the ivor}^ walls are broken, 
What remains? — My dear, my dear, 
It will still be lovely here. 
Still shall Autumn woods be gay, 
And apple boughs grow white in May ; 
Still shall crooked streets run down 
To make a crooked, white-walled town ; 



Sea winds still shall bring the scents 

Of far, remembered continents. 

It will still be lovely here . . . 

May you never know, my dear, 

When youth and love have ceased to be, 

Beauty's bitter mockery ! 



•^24-^ 



The Marsh 

In the dim gray marshes the white winds stir 
Down tangled sedge-aisles, green and still ; 
And the air is jewelled with flash and whir 
Of wild wings waking and hearts athrill. 

The slow tides turn with the turning hour, 
An endless pulsing of changeless sea; 
Billowing marsh waves foam in flower. 
With reed notes mocking the waves that flee. 

The sea winds murmur of dim tomorrows, 
Joys of the brown earth, grief of the wave ; 
Tongueless wailing of old sea-sorrows 
In the gray marsh whispering finds a grave. 

Shadows lengthen, and dusk returning 
Snares in the marsh reeds blossoming 
Far sea-dreams in the sunset burning, 
Shadow-visions and starlight yearning. 
Sleepy twitter and muffled wing. 



^25^ 



Beach Sand 

Up the scented hill-slope Spring, 
With feet of flame, comes hastening, 
And from his topmost, leafy spray 
I heard the cardinal today, 

Apple boughs are blowing white 

And hawthorn scents the moonlit night; 

All the green wood on the hill 

Beauty fashions to her will . . . 

But my heart will not be still. 

Singing of the white beach sand 

At the far edge of the land 

Where the wind blows sharp and salt. 

And Spring's white, fragrant armies halt. 

At the fish-shed pilings rapping 

All day long the waves are slapping; 

All day long the gulls are crying 

Where the fishing boats are lying 

Drifting with the lazy swell 

That swings the deep-voiced channel bell. 

Hawthorn buds are fair at noon 
And apple boughs against the moon ; 
Dogwood, violets, and clover, 
These are charms to charm a rover ; 
Thrush and robin pour again 



•>?-26^ 



Silver notes like silver rain ; 
All the green wood on the hill 
Beauty fashions to her will . . . 
But my heart will not be still. 

Where the marsh-grass meets the sea, 
That is where my heart would be ; 
Where the tall, white ships go by 
Underneath an azure sky. 



4? 27 4?- 



Ragged Sailors 

Around the lighthouse, white and tall, 
Bright blue against the rain-washed wall 
Grow clumps of ragged sailors massed 
Like weary hearts that here at last 
Have found a peace, where flaming sun 
With shining, golden feet doth run 
Upon the sea, and climbing moon 
Nightly silvers hill and dune. 

O laughing bloom ! if it may be 
That death doth mould life secretly 
Unto new life — a flower, a flame, 
A dream of life without a name . . . 
Were it not peace for sea-spent men. 
Wave-tossed, wind-driven, to know again 
The light in quiet, sunny places 
Untroubled by the windy spaces 
Of running sea, and flying foam ; 
Firm-rooted in the still, dark loam 
Were it not peace to know at night 
The steady shining of the light, 
To feel beside the lighthouse wall 
No fear of any wind at all ? 



•^28^ 



Soon Cometh May 

Soon Cometh May, 
And soon — O soon — 
Wild plum blossoms 
Under the moon. 

Far — O far— 

In the blossoming night 

Faint minstrelsy 

Of all delight, 

Touching the heart 
With flame, with song, 
When hours are fleet, 
And dreams are long. 

Beauty returneth 
Upon the earth, 
A flaming, rain-sweet, 
Rose-white birth. 

Beauty returneth 
Veiled in light, 
A silver flame 
In the silver night. 



429^ 



Beauty returneth, 
Runneth fleet ; 
Her sandals fail not 
From her feet. 

Soon Cometh May, 
And soon — O soon — 
Wild plum blossoms 
Under the moon. 



•^30-iJ- 



A Gray Day 

Easterly winds and driving rain 
Are blurring every window pane 
With crystal dots, and silver threads 
That slip and slide across the glass 
Like silver serpents in the grass. 

Under gray skies in wind-whipped beds 

The tiger-lilies, tall and frail, 

Turn their backs upon a gale 

Of scudding cloud, and racing sea. 

And wind that runneth restlessly. 

Ah ! love, hath all the former day 
Of golden glory passed away? 
Of Spring across the meadows calling. 
Of moonlight on the orchards falling. 
Of rose-white blossoms on the bough ? 

Though the gray rain is blowing now 
Upon the hill, and great gusts sweep 
The fields where meadow grass grew deep. 
Though the wind waileth ceaselessly. 
That which hath been still shall be ; 
All that hath lived liveth ever ; 
All that hath loved dieth never, 
If once youth flamed with magic light, 
If once the green boughs burned to white ! 



O light that f adeth not again ! 
O white boughs shining through the rain ! 
O beautiful the blossoms round our feet, 
Where love was young, and beauty once 
was sweet ! 



4->32^ 



In the Mist 

Mist and the voice of a bell, 

As the slow tides flow ; 

And the shadowy, blundering, fog-bound 

ships of the sea 
Grope to and fro. 

Faint hum of sailors, and laughter. 

Tiny port-holes a-light ; 

Then — fog-strangled churning of engines, 

hoarse growl of a horn, 
Recede in the night. 

In dream-light of visions returning 

Years storm-darkened gleam ; 

And sudden winds singing one word — one 

word I would say 
Ere you vanish in dream. 

One golden-winged, jewel-wrought word ! 
Would life's gates spring apart? . . . 
Only the mist and the slow-swinging, 

bronze-throated bell . . . 
Dumb lips, dead heart. 



•*33<4- 



Love Walked with Me 

Many an hour of many a day 
I walked alone a winding way 
Through fields of clover, up the hill, 
Where pines croon low, and waters spill 
From rock to rock, from pool to pool 
Moss-edged with velvet crisp and cool. 

Many an hour, by many a way, 

I watched the pageant of the day ; 

Saw beauty veil in golden mist 

The willow boughs that Spring had kissed ; 

Heard beauty run in golden notes 

That filled the air like dancing motes ; 

Found beauty's footprint, found her trace, 

But never met her in her grace. 

Although the heart stood still to hear 

The rustle of her presence near 

Stealing from her worshippers. 

Stirring as the tall grass stirs. 

Or creeping through the scented clover 

At hide-and-seek with those that love her. 



•*34^ 



On a new hour of a new day 
Love walked with me that leafy way, 
And life found fragrance and heart's ease 
Amid the quietness of trees. 
Yea ! all the hours of all the day 
Love touched the known, familiar way 
With magic from the heart of May. . . 
Then in each secret, shadowy place 
Mine eyes saw beauty face to face. 



«35 4«- 



And Then Came Spring 

The wild rose blossoms on the hill, 
The red rose by the door ; 
The little wren hath built again 
Just as before. 

There's bloom upon the apple boughs, 
And flash of bluebird's wing . . . 
But who shall come to sing the song 
You used to sing *? 



•5^36* 



O Where Doth Beauty Dwell 

O where doth beauty dwell, 
Ye who pursue her ? 
What hour doth strike her knell, 
All ye that rue her ? 

Who knoweth loveliness 
In common things, 
All homely joys that bless, 
Needeth no wings 

To climb the steep, blue sky, 
Or search the earth ; 
In every kindly tie, 
And natural birth. 

Is beauty lodged. O sweet 
The sun and rain ; 
Toil and black bread and meat. 
And toil again ; 

Roof-tree and bright hearth-stone. 
Clear, running spring ; 
Harvest of seed sown 
And blossoming ; 



•^37^ 



slow words of simple truth, 
Deeds of high end ; 
The laughing faith of youth ; 
Handclasp of friend ; 

The warm soil's sunny mirth, 
The moonlight's spell ; 
In these hath beauty birth, 
Doth beauty dwell. 

O not on honey-dew 
Is beauty fed ; 
She doth her life renew 
With wine and bread. 

She stands where thou dost stand, 
Is where thou art ; 
Nearer than foot or hand. 
Near as the heart. 



•*5>38^ 



The Tur 722770 Tide 

Slack water, and a night bereft of stars ; 
A bitter wind blows in from out the dark, 
And I go seaward with the turning tide. 

The yellow lights that blink across the night, 
The fragrance of salt marsh, the incessant whisper 
Of waves upon the rocks — these things have been 
Blood of my blood, bone of my bone since birth. 

The dear loved faces that have filled my years. 
The voices I would know across the world, 
These will remain, and one by one be numbered 
With those that vanish from the kindly shore. 

New lands, new faces, yea ! it may be — peace ; 
But never again the old familiar greeting, 
The homely v/ord, the honest smile that lights 
The worn and furrowed face with holiness. 

Day after day sails vanish into silence. 
And we who linger, wonder and are still. 

Then in the night the call, insistent, low. 
Offering the heart nor joy nor grief. 
But keen-edged as a sword that shears away 
The treasure of the dear remembered years. 



•)?-4M-^ 



The rhythmic slap of halyards on the mast 
Sounds from the darkness, straining anchor chains 
Speak of the currents setting to the sea, 
And I go seaward with the turning tide. 

Before — the unknown silent years. Behind . • . 
Inviolable and crowned with morning light. 
The secret, dreaming fairylands of Dawn. 



•7^42-^ 



You Who Once Walked he side Me 

Where have you strayed, my son ? To what far dwelling, 
You who once walked beside me — arm in my arm? 
You from whose boyish heart laughter was ever welling. 
Where have you found a haven — beyond all harm? 

Where are the magic roads we tramped together. 
Sunlit valley and hill, and the white ways of the plain ? 
Where are the dreams we dreamed in the rain-sweet April 

weather ? 
All these are gone — returning never again. 

Never again the voice of your eager calling ; 

Never again the touch of your hand on my arm ! 

And I face the empty years knowing Time's slow sands 

falling 
Hold now for you — for me — no more of harm. 



•^43^ 



There is a Secret Music 

There is a secret music haunts the hours 

Within my garden wall, 

Where many a bird long vanished from her bowers, 

Repeats her olden call. 

And round the wind-blown nests of vanished Springs, 

Empty of joy or strife, 

Still haunts a glory of soft, brooding wings. 

Still clings a dream of life. 

The grassy walks are gay with petals flying 
From laughing winds at play ; 
And yet I know not if they've long been lying, 
Or if they fell today. 

For Time has lost his witchery and wonder ; 
Yea I while my garden grows 
Shall never more resolve the years asunder . . . 
Enchanted by a rose. 



^HA^ 



The Enchanted Wood 

Out of the dark I have heard you calling. 

Spirit of wind and light ! 

Out of the dusk and the white dew falling 

Heard you singing of joy divine. 

And my heart has thrilled in the silent night, 

And my feet have sought you, Heart of Mine, 

In the silver dusk and the white dew falling. 

Shimmer of moonlight, glimmer of pearl, 
Mist on the air like a filmy lace ; 
Eddying wood-wraiths dance and swirl 
Where dreams are born in the forest cool. 
O Heart of Mine, I have seen your face 
In the silver dusk by the shadowy pool. 
Where eddying wood-wraiths dance and swirl. 

Out of the wood when shades are falling. 

And flickering elf-lights gleam ; 

Out of the dusk I hear you calling, 

A fugitive presence, a haunting song ! 

O, ever elusive, luring dream ! 

The heart is lonely and time is long. 

In the silver dusk and the white dew falling. 



^AS^ 



Beside the Hearth 

From fairyland she came to me, 
And dwelt — a blessed while; 
Lo ! All the shadows of the room 
Were lightened by her smile. 

She took my hand as one who said, 
"If thou can'st not be free, 
I know no other freedom save 
To dwell here, love, with thee." 

She swept the room — upon the hearth 
She lit an altar flame ; 
And peace abides within the house 
At the naming of her name. 

Yet sometimes in the stillness here 
1 know she hears again 
The laughter of the elves that dance 
Between the drops of rain. 

And while she lays her hand in mine, 
Turning her eyes to me, 
I know she dreams of fairy ships 
That sail a fairy sea. 



•5?-46^ 



In a Child' s Garden 

I could be happy in remembering 
Her laughing eyes, her dancing feet, 
Her voice that sings in every wind of Spring 
A music elfin-sweet. 

I could be happy but to see in dream 
Her flower-face, her flying hair, 
To know again the vision-worlds that gleam 
In soft enchantment there. 



^47^ 



Love Took the Swiftness of Wind 

Love took the swiftness of wind. 
And fragrance of wood flowers, 

Laughter of silver stars, 
Silence of summer hours, 

Whiteness of new-fallen snow. 
Sweetness of April rain. 

And fashioned them to a child 
Slender as waving grain . . . 

Who that knew her laughter, 
And her flying feet. 

Would think of blowing wind as swift 
Or April rain as sweet *? 



•^48<-4- 



The Wish I Wish Tonight 

Starlight, star bright, 
Fairest star I've seen tonight, 
For little hearts you light to bed, 
Lagging foot and nodding head, 
For sleepy eyes that smile to see 
Your taper shine so cheerily. 
Starlight, star bright, 
This is the wish I wish tonight : 

Beauty to shine on seeing eyes ! 

Beauty to mould the heart ! — O wise 

Who follow beauty far and far 

By glowing sun and shining star. 

Beyond all that the heart has known 

Here where our lives are thrown ; 

Or whether on familiar land 

Where year by year salt winds have blown 

The wild plum blossoms on the sand, 

In grass-grown paths and simple ways 

Come golden days. 

Far or near, come weal or woe, 

Summer sun and vv^inter snow. 

Out of the mire, out of the dust. 

Beauty's climbing tendrils thrust 

Upward to eternal light, 

A dream, a sorcery, by night, 



•^49<-<- 



A glory in the flowering grass, 

A singing in the wind that shall not pass, 

Until the heart is still 

Under the wind-blown grasses on the hill. 

That love may be as sandals to swift feet, 
For surely love is venturesome and fleet ; 
Love is a flame, love is a light, 
Love is a singing in the night ; 
Love is a vision and a dream, 
Love only is, where all things seem. 

Starlight, star bright, 

Ray of blue, and ray of white. 

This is the wish I wish tonight. 



4p^ 



/ Hung the Walls with Holly Boughs 

I lit the laughing candle lights 
Upon your Christmas tree ; 
I hung the walls with holly boughs 
In joy of thee. 

Now only in a lonely heart 

Your Christmas candles glow ; 

And the holly boughs lie spread— lie spread — 

Under the snow. 



•^s\^- 



The Oracle 

O heart ! Is not my palace fair 
As eye may know ? 

Nay! Children's blocks have built as rare 
Long years ago. 

O heart ! Have not my battles sought 
Life's golden store ? 

Nay! Leaden soldiers oft have fought 
A nobler war. 

O heart ! Are not my days well sped ? 
No hour brings tears. 

Dost thou not know that thou art dead 
These many years ^ 



^52^ 



Departure 

I knew it would be bitter at the end 

To say farewell ; 

To take the gray road winding, pass the bend, 

So passing from the fields I loved so well. 

I knew it would be hard to turn the key 
Upon the past ; 

The plan of life we wrought so patiently, 
The secret things we cherished to the last. 

And yet I knew not how that earth had grown 
Of me a part ; 

How with its living seeds my life was sown, 
And all its roses rooted in my heart. 

I did not know the years had treasured up 
A robin's song ; 

I did not dream one sip from one rose-cup 
Had worked enchantment for a whole life long. 



■^sz^ 



I Shall Return 

I shall return 

At evening with the falling of the dew, 

Through the gray dusk of some still night in May ; 

Needing no words at last to say to you 

The thousand things that once I could not say. 

I shall return 

With the night wind that stirs your quiet room, 
Or some shy fragrance drifting up the glen 
Like kisses blown from apple boughs in bloom ; 
And you shall know how much I loved you — then. 



^s^^ 



Orchard Trees 

Plucked harp or lute strings wake 
No melodies 

Sweet as the wind doth shake 
From orchard trees ; 

Fine nets of silver spun 
Gleam not so fair 
As silver buds upon 
The evening air. 

A dreamer, slow of speech, 
And rough of hand. 
Once scanned this pleasant reach 
Of smiling land, 

Choosing the sunlit hill. 
Long years ago, 
For flowering trees that fill 
The orchard row. 

He watched the young green turning 
To creamy white ; 

He loved the young boughs burning 
With rosy light. 



•^55^ 



He heard when winds awoke 
Their symphony, 
Faint song or surge that broke 
Like breaking sea. 

He saw when redbird's coat 
Or bluebird's wing 
Flamed like a colored note 
From green lute string. 

Stoop-shouldered, silent, slow, 
Loving the sod. 
Did he not say, "I know 
Not even God 

Could make a sweeter thing 
Under the sun 

Than white boughs May winds sln^ 
Their songs upon ; 

Could grant a fairer boon 
Between the seas 
Than silver from the moon 
On orchard trees." 



-^5^^ 



When Spring Ran Laughing Down 
the Hill 

when Spring ran laughing down the hill, 
And sang in every hawthorn hedge, 
I rose with all my heart a-thrill 
And followed her by reed and sedge. 

I heard her song ring sweet and clear 
Through all the green world, far and wide . . . 
Then came I where you once were dear, 
And all Spring's music broke and died. 



^si^ 



The End of the Day 

Sitting with folded hands, 

With weary eyes and dim, 

She sees the glow on the western sands, 

The sun on the ocean's rim. 

And her heart turns back to the nights 

Of song and roses and love, 

When life was sweet in the diamond-lights 

Of myriad stars above. 

She hears the wind in the trees. 

The summer rain on the grass. 

The prattle of children about her knees ; 

Soft shadows come and pass 

And cluster about her chair, 

And fairy fingers blow 

Kisses sweet as April air. 

From lips of long ago. 

Sorrow and pain are past, 

Passion and longing are dead ; 

Evening shadows are falling fast 

About her drooping head. 

Sitting with folded hands. 

With weary eyes and dim, 

She sees the glow on the western sands. 

The sun on the ocean's rim. 



^s»-ifr 



Brothers of the Wind 

Do ye not hear the voices of your kin. 
Straying brothers of the wind and rain? 

Ye dream of life with dumb, unshaken hearts, 
And brooding eyes that watch the slow hearth-flames 
Flaring in green and mauve and golden light . . . 
Wind-harried driftwood melting in one gleam 
Of blue, Homeric seas and jewelled sand. 

Your lotus-bonded souls that sang at dawn, 
Hearing the call of winds that range the world, 
Forget old kinship with the wings that cleave. 
The hearts that search the borderlands of life. 

Behold ! The ancient vision and the dream. 
Chant of the gray wave, voice of the dim, white rain. 
And all the quickening gospels of the wind. 
Grow alien to your altars and your creeds. 

Coiners of sunlight ! Gatherers of dew ! 
Pan pipes unheeded in the river reeds ; 
The kindly prophecies of the green earth 
Die in your hearts as empty oracles. 



^59^ 



O straying brothers of the wind and rain ! 
Your lodge of old was roofed with friendly stars. 
The wild air blossomed with your brushwood fires ; 
Your sons were bred amid green silences. 

Ye were the red earth's children, blood and bone ! 
Dim memories of forest centuries 
Unlocked the secret of the snapping twig, 
Swift rustling leaves, splash in the dark pool, 
And the unanswered yearning of the wind. 

Horizon-breakers in the ancient dawn, 
Cleaving the sea-line, piercing the yellow fog ! 
Have ye forgot the hulls that foamed, the sails 
That flamed across the gray waves of the world? 

Are there no dreams of noon-day left to men ? 
Strike off the bondage of your craven years. 
Old, dying creeds shall perish from the earth, 
And new horizons kindle with new light. 

Do ye not hear the voices of your kin. 
Straying brothers of the zvind and rain? 



•^60^ 



They That Go Down to the Sea 

There's a smell of rotting leaf-mold, and the winds of 

Spring are blowing, 
There's a voice that lures and whispers in the mad Spring 

weather, 
As the sunlight on blue water sets the gypsy blood 

a-glowing, 
And the sailor's heart runs seaward, snapping tie and 

breaking tether. 
And a thousand ships grow dim on the far sea-line. 

They ferret out their cargoes on the other side the world, 
Rose pearls and moonlit ivory and golden crocks. 
Before the trade v/inds scudding, in tempest thunders 

hurled 
Around the world and back again to scum-washed docks. 

They seek a hope no heart can name where long waves 

whiten, 
A dream the wind has moulded out of flying foam ; 
From burning east to burning west the gray waves lighten, 
And driving to the flying sea-line white sails roam. 



^61 ^ 



For the sea with flowing magic fills the hearts of men with 

vision ; 
They are hers in bone and sinew, and her love is in their 

eyes; 
Though she smite them with disaster, though she slay them 

in derision, 
They will hear her call and follow till the last breath dies. 

They will hear her voice and seek her down the pathways 

of the mist, 
And nose their way around the world till swinging tides 

shall cease ; 
They shall gaze without misgiving on the lips her lips 

have kissed 
As they sink through swirling waters where green silence 

offers peace. 

When breaking ice goes seaward and the winds of Spring 

are blowing, 
When a thousand voices whisper in the mad Spring 

weather, 
When sunlight on blue water sets the gypsy blood 

a-glowing, 
Then the sailor's heart runs seaward, snapping tie and 

breaking tether, 
And a thousand ships grow dim on the far sea-line. 



-^62^ 



Death in the Reeds 

No more the sunlight quivers in my veins, 
With sudden, piercing ecstacy of life ; 
Night-shadows deepen in my withered leaves ; 
Was it not yesterday that I was young ? 

When Spring was kindling on the barren hills, 
And naked marshland trembled into flame, 
Blade upon blade I woke unto the sun, 
And the long, fragrant kiss of the white wind. 

Upon my face I caught the golden fire, 
From leaf to leaf it thrilled upon my heart. 
And all the brown earth melted into light ; 
Was it not yesterday that I was young ? 

The swaying reeds, marsh-brothers, marsh-beloved, 
Bowed down their heads before me in the dawn ; 
The Spring's green passion burned from stalk to stalk. 
And life's wild magic throbbed within the root. 

Around my feet the waters laughed and whispered, 
Telling me secrets of the old, rough earth. 

No more the heart flames upward to the sun ; 
Night-shadows deepen in my withered leaves. 
Surely I have but dreamed of life and light I 
Or was it yesterday that I was young ? 



The Ship of Dreams 

On the silver trail there's a sail tonight, 
And a ship stands in from the far sea-line ; 
A shape that never is seen by day, 
In mist enshrouded and veiled in spray, 
Bearing no store of mart or mine. 

Out of the haven of heart's desire 
Many a year she's overdue ; 
Dreams forgotten and visions old, 
Magic skies, and fairy gold . . . 
These are the wares she brings to you. 

Spoil of the lands of long ago. 

Treasure of years when the heart was young ; 

Light of unlived splendid days, 

Laurel crown, and whispered praise , . . 

The blow unstruck and the song unsung. 

You never shall hear her anchor chains. 
Nor ever the sound of her flapping sail ; 
Yet eyes that are weary and old and dim 
Have seen her far on the ocean's rim 
Sailing across the silver trail. 



4} 64 ^ 



Night-Jewels 

window by window, more and more, 

Gleam the evening lights on the curving shore, 

A chain of topaz blazing white 

On the throbbing bosom of the night. 

A glint of ruby, an emerald spark. 
From a drifting ship in the velvet dark. 
Rise and fall with the long wave's crest 
As jewels stir on a woman's breast. 



•5^65<-^ 



The Quest 

The shadow sails grow far and dim, 
The shadow squadrons melt away 
Beyond the ocean's silver rim, 
Beyond the gates of night and day. 

Eyes of yearning that know the vision, 
Hearts of hunger that seek the gleam, 
Stirred by whispers of lands Elysian, 
Over the sea-line follow a dream. 

Their dreams are woven of sun and tears ; 
Out of the dusk the South wind blows 
Faint music of forgotten years, 
The haunting fragrance of a rose. 



•^66-^ 



Ghost Ships 

Still are the winds, my love, that laughed at dawn 
Upon a sea of dreaming amethyst ; 
And through the velvet shadows of the dusk 
Night flashes golden fire from star to star. 

Beneath the sleeping headlands, far and dim, 
Touched with the silence of the centuries. 
The ghost ships of the world drift with the tide, 
One by one out of the twilight stealing. 

Fleet-oared triremes of Sidon, and Grecian galleys, 
Dim-fabled argosies of silk and spice. 
Swift Viking sails of half-forgotten years. 
Gray and still they swing with the weary tides. 

Love and war and the golden lure of the wind, 
Yearning and dim, sweet visions of foreign faces, 
Drew them into the mists that blow around 
The utmost borders of the world, forever. 

Song of the salt, mad wind and wine of the sea. 
Cry of the gray wave calling out of the night. 
Waken the ghosts of happy, vanished shores, 
Waken the murmur of old, dreamlike voices. 



467^ 



One sail that lingers in foi gotten lands, 
One face that dreams not on the evening air 
Yet in the broken music of the wind, 
Blowing from out the gardens of the dawn 
I hear your silver laughter, O my love I 



-^68-(f 



Vanished Sails 

Under the golden harvest moon 
Silver sails on the sea, my love, 
Creeping out on the wings of night, 
Out to the dawn and the eastern light . . . 
Silver sails on the sea, my love. 

Under the pallid winter moon 

No gleam of a roving sail, my love ; 

The shores are bare, and the seas are bleak, 

And wandering hearts are far to seek ; 

No gleam of a vanished sail, my love. 



•?>69^ 



Beauty Doth Ever Tease 

Beauty doth ever tease 
With swift surprises ; 
From all who seek she flees 
In strange disguises. 

No heart may hold her fast, 
Or hold her long; 
She slippeth free at last 
With mocking song. 

Once in the breathless game 
She turned her head : 
"Dost thou not know my name 
Is love?" she said. 

I cried: "At last — -the truth!" 
She slipped behind me : 
"Suppose my name were youth, 
How would you find me*?" 



•^70^ 



The Shores of Sleep 

At last our ways have found their utmost goal 
On the gray shingle of the unbordered sea. 

The shrill, insistent voices of the world 
Are stilled behind us in a sudden hush, 
And the harsh tumult of unhallowed years 
Dies in the swaying silence of the deep. 

In the far regions of the purple dusk 
Forgotten visions stir, and, dimly known. 
Peace dreams in the untroubled ocean depths. 
Washed in the flowing silver of the stars. 

So far, so faint, as of a mightier ocean 
Beyond the shadows of the world, there beats 
The ebb and flow of time and life and love 
Down the dim reaches of Eternity. 

Sleep after weary toil. Night folds about us 
The velvet mantle of her endless tides ; 
And the low voices of a holier dawn 
Blow from the isles of slumber in the sea. 



•5r7it^ 



^^(III)4^'< 



As I Went Down to Provincetown 

As I went down to Provincetown, 
Under the hill 
Frost was in the marshes, 
And the air was chill. 

As I went down to Provincetown, 
Before a crooked house 
I saw an old man sitting 
Still as a mouse. 

Skin like russet apples, 

And shaking hands ; 

Eyes that searched for something 

Beyond the sands. 

Low eaves green with moss. 
And a low, green door ; 
But no voice within. 
Or foot on the floor. 

"A fine, warm place 
To be sitting in the sun ! " 
His eyes sought mine 
At the word begun. 



•55-75^ 



"Aye ! warm in the sun, 
But the air is chill ; 
The dark comes early . . ." 
The house was still. 

Said he : " It's quiet here 
Day by day ; 
Never been the same 
Since the boys went away. 

One made money, 
And the like o' that ; 
Hard for him to get away 
From his own door mat. 

One went to sea ; 
Always was a rover, 
Driving with the wind 
The whole world over. 

But one was close as bark to me, 
Rain and snow ; 

Twenty year since he was took . . 
Twenty year ago . . ." 



•>->76 45- 



Skin like russet apples, 

And shaking hands ; 

Eyes that searched for something 

Beyond the sands. 

"A fine, warm sun. 
But the air is chill ; 
The dark comes early . . . 
And the nights are still." 



^77^ 



The Long Road 

Brother, what if the road be long, 
Out of the gray town, over the hill ! 
A gay, good heart and a snatch of song. 
And life laughs back as we trudge along. 
What if the inns be good or bad ! 
Turn your face to the wind, my lad ; 
Take the long road with a will, 
Out of the gray town, over the hill ! 

Brother, what if the day be long ! 
Journeys end, and the stars, and the sun. 
There's a dusty highway ribboning free 
Through a jewelled land to a gleaming sea ; 
Drink a health to the hearts that roam ! 
Fling the cup at the stay-at-home ! 
Then take the road till the day be done. 
Till journeys end, and the stars, and the sun. 



•5^78*- 



The Truant 

O he came back at five o'clock 
Who should have come at four, 
With slow hand on the turning lock, 
And slow foot at the door. 

Said he: "I've played the fool, I know." 
Said he: "I've played the clown; 
But O the apple boughs a-blow 
Beyond the edge of town ! 

And though I come at set of sun 
Answering the old call, 
Some day — some day I'll turn and run. 
And never come back at all." 



•^79<^ 



Hearfs Desire 

There is a land with sunlight on its rivers, 

There is a realm with silver on the sea ; 

In every scented, vagrant wind there quivers 

The chanting of love's elfin melody; 

And in her garden where her hopes are springing 

From every bud in tender, green attire. 

Her still, sweet voice is never weary, singing 

Visions of heart's desire. 

Musing amid green leaves she sits alone, 
With eyes wherein eternity doth sleep ; 
And all the fairy visions men have known, 
All hopes they hold, all vigils that men keep. 
She weaves with magic fingers silently. 
Conjuring joy from out the depths of pain, 
As after ebb the great tides of the sea 
Set to the shore again. 

For her the world is great, and wide, and free ; 
Her footsteps touch the meadows into flame. 
All love and beauty, death and mystery 
Are hinted in the naming of her name. 
Wind after wind may hunt her down the world, 
Sword upon sword may harry her and mar . . . 
At last her crimson banners are unfurled. 
Beyond the last, dim star. 



■^8o-(f 



Who'll Buy a Rose 

who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
Little red rose-cups to catch the dew. 
One for a token, two for a smile, 
Three if you'll love me a little while ! 
Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 

Put away your pennies, your little silver pennies ; 

In all the realm of Fairyland there's nothing they will buy. 

I met a little fairy once, and tried to buy a silver star ; 

I met a little fairy once, and tried to buy a star. 

She laughed and said, "A bargain O ! 

Wise little pigs to market go ;" 

(Her voice was sad) "A bargain O — a penny for the sky ! " 

Put away your pennies, your little silver pennies, 

Can they swim like silver fish, or shine like silver stars'? 

I've lost the way to Fairyland, but I've no rose to sell 

to you ; 
I've lost the way to Fairyland, — but I've no rose to sell. 
(Her voice was sad — "A bargain O ! 
Wise little pigs to market go.") 
O, I've no red, red rose to sell to folk in golden cars. 

Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
Little red rose-cups to catch the dew. 
One for a token, two for a smile. 
Three if you'll love me a little while ! 
Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 

^81 <<• 



Silver Pennies 

The banker's son hath bags of gold, 
And silver shillings to lend ; 
He bartereth hours he may not hoard 
For coins he cannot spend. 

The banker's son hath a violin, 
And a magic bow so fine. 
That vveaveth songs for many a heart. 
But never a song for mine. 

For my heart knoweth a secret place 
To dwell the whole year long. 
Where each day bringeth a silver penny, 
And each night bringeth a song. 



•^82^ 



A Preacher in the Market 

A preacher in the market ! 

I stopped to hear, 

And on the market fell 

The chiming of a bell. 

Then far and near 

A voice like distant music on my ear. 

He said, "All men are children, 

In their play 

Hoarding as precious things 

Pebbles and colored strings, 

The baubles gay. 

That drop from tired hands at end of day." 

He said, "All men are children 

That laugh and weep, 

Striving they know not why, 

Striving till, day gone by. 

Weary and flushed they creep 

Into the arms that fold them into sleep." 

So preached he in the market ! 

Rose again 

A din of market cries ; 

Then in his kindly eyes 

A smile — as when 

One from the hills might look at market men. 

483^ 



Day after Day 

Day after day she came and went in silence, 
About her round of tasks from dark to dark, 
Through streets which filth and squalor and disease 
And brawling voices made the courts of Hell. 

Within her heart insistent yearnings clamored, 
Beneath her eyelids smoldered dumb despair ; 
Moulded of the divine — cast out to be 
Chaff of the threshing-floor upon the wind. 

Toil for the crown of slow, undying hours, 
And blows for guerdon of her bitter years . . . 
Of these she drew a strength of sacrifice 
That hallowed life with mute nobility. 

But sometimes in the darkness kisses rained 
Upon her weary lips, and straining arms 
Drew in her broken, frail, uncherished form- 
Then strength grew dead within her — and she wept — ■ 
Great tears of generations of despair. 



•^•84^ 



The Gates of Dawn 

Today, beside the dusty road, I dreamed 

Of half-forgotten scenes and days of youth ; 

Of paths that crossed the cool, fresh fields at dawn, 

The glory and the splendor of the dew. 

Green leaves against the sun — of days that knew 

The witchery and wonder of the world. 

Clean winds, white rain, and stars, and children's laughter. 

Great argosies upon the summer brooks. 

And traffic with the squirrels of the wood ; 

The quick, sharp ring of skates on winter ice ; 

Dear, dreaming faces by the brushwood fire. 

And the slow, silent fall of midnight snow. 

Somewhere the land of youth and love and laughter 
Lies near — so near, the echoes of old songs 
Beat in the stillness on a leaping heart. 
And whisperings of long-remembered voices 
Recall the dear, lost treasure of the years . . . 

Then upon dreaming eyes the vision falls, 
Through gates of silver, and with aching hearts 
Men hear again the long roll of the sea, 
Beholding the dim sails of great, tall ships 
That roamed the world ; and those that lie a-fevered 
With life's slow pain seem once again to feel 
Themselves upborne on the long crested waves 
Of shoreless seas ; viewing with unfamiliar eyes 



The old familiar things that hedge them in ; 
Hearing the rain that drummed upon the decks 
Of ships long wrecked and driven with the winds ; 
Or starting up from slumber at the moan 
Of gales that swept forgotten lands of youth. 

And women whose hearts have drunk so deep of life 

Even unto the lees, that all its beauty 

Burns through the sadness that has made them gray, 

And all its splendor sleeps within their eyes 

Though old and dim — these feel on weary brows 

The winds that blew upon the morning hills, 

Whispering far prophecies of pain 

Born of great joy, and joy beyond all pain ; 

When they were brushed by sudden, unseen wings. 

And all the ancient gray earth flamed in glory 

Beneath a god's feet shining on the hills. 



^86^- 



The Torch-Bearers 

Here where the sloping meadows run 
In laughing bloom to meet the sun, 
And dripping rain-sweet apple trees 
Spill fragrance on the morning breeze ; 
Here where the scented hours caress 
All the green wood to loveliness, 
I hear the bells of Princeton ring 
The hours of another Spring. 

Mid trees enlacing, green and high. 
Three towers dream against the sky. 
While round them swirl and laugh and beat 
The tides of youth in Nassau Street. 
From field and lake, from winding stair. 
Laughing voices fill the air. 
While golden hours softly chime 
And magic stills the pulse of time. 

O eager hearts that gaily there 
Run to meet life, and find it fair, 
Scornful that age so shrewdly sips 
The cup they drain with thirsting lips ! 
O hope that dwells in eager eyes 
Untouched of wintry agonies, 
Smiling to see age grown so slow 
To stake life lightly at one throw ! 



•^89^ 



O feet that pass the open door 

To come no more — to come no more ! 

Years flower and change and die away ; 
Still comes new beauty with the May ; 
Still flow the joyous tides of youth 
Loving beauty, seeking truth, 
Lifting the torch that age lays down. 

O ivied walls ! O dreaming town ! 
Who knows what secret blossoming 
Shall be the glory of thy Spring ? 



•^90-i^ 



Princeton^ igiy 

He dropped his book ; he left his task ; 

He cast his gown away, 

Hearing a great cry in the wind : 

"It is The Day— The Day ! " 

Out of the river and under the hill, 

His ship went down the bay. 

God knows the rose grew tall and fair 
In Flanders' fields, and Picardy ; 
And bird-songs once filled all the air 
From meadow grass, and swaying tree ; 
God knows the children's dreams were sweet 
As any dream could be. 

He rose at the first bugle-note, 

Putting his youth away. 

With morning light upon his face 

And a high heart and gay. 

I think that God hath blessed the ground 

Where he lies today. 



->^9i^ 



To H. C. B. 

Of thee, whom honor drew 
As moon the sea, 
What words have we that knew 
For elegy? 

Lover of truth, thou art 
Where all is true ; 
The whole that of the part 
Death doth renew. 

Lover of beauty thou. 
Beyond all art 
Made one with beauty now, 
And beauty's heart. 

Lover of chivalry 

And gentleness. 

Gently death deal with thee. 

And slow time bless. 



^92^ 



•^•^^f V )^>4-'^-i— 



A Christmas Charm 

Heap on the logs this Christmas Day, 
Fill all the house with light and cheer, 
That friends may lift the latch, steal in 
And linger here. 

Heap on the logs this Christmas Day, 
To warm us with a magic art. 
That winter's chill may never freeze 
Upon the heart. 

Heap on the logs this Christmas Day ! 
We'll conjure from their ruddy gleams 
A secret charm to fill the year 
With Christmas dreams ! 



•^95-(^ 



Nursery Songs for Christmas Eve 
I 

It was a little candle, dear, 

Beside your Christmas tree, 

That danced, and laughed, and danced again, 

And winked most roguishly. 

But when the tree, unheeding, 
Stood stiffly in his place. 
The little candle bowed her head, 
With tears upon her face. 

II 

Not all the gleaming holly. 
And silver mistletoe. 
Nor far, thin carols on the air, 
Across the drifted snow, 

Make up the tale of Christmas . . . 
But deep within your eyes 
To see the joy of Christmas shine 
Like stars in Christmas skies. 



■^96^ 



Ill 

Christmas comes but once a year, 
So the wise folk say, my dear ; 

But they quite forget to say 

That Christmas always comes to stay. 

Over the drifts of this year's snow 
Ring Christmas bells of long ago ; 

And by these candle-gleams we see — 
How many a vanished Christmas tree ! 

May Christmas joy and Christmas cheer 
Abide within this house, my dear ! 

So shall your heart still sing in May 
The songs you sang on Christmas Day. 



■^97^ 



Three Songs for Christmas 
I 

We'll hang the walls with holly boughs, 
And silver mistletoe ; 
We'll light a Yule-flame on the hearth 
And fill the room with candle-glow. 

Yet Love could still keep Christmas Day, 

Though all the house were bare . . . 
One song of Yuletide on youx lips, 
One spray of holly in your hair. 

II 

If I could dress a Christmas tree 
With all the gifts you've given me — 

The spell you weave in magic ways 
Of quiet peace through all our days ; 

The healing word, the shy caress, 
The secret dream of happiness, — 

I'd hang them on a Christmas tree 
And give them back, my dear, to thee. 



-^98^ 



Ill 

who hath nor purse, nor golden coin, 
Who holds no lands in fee. 
He singeth gay on Christmas Day 
In jolly beggary. 

For who hath nought to give but love, 
Gives all his heart away, 
And giving all, hath all to give 
Another Christmas Day. 



■^99-¥r 



A Christmas Prayer 

God bless this house on Christmas Day, 
And all who in it dwell ; 
And send us work, and send us play, 
And many a glad Noel. 

God send us store on Christmas Day 
Of friends, and health, and mirth ; 
And bless us with that dream alway, 
That blessed the world on Christmas Day : 
"Good will, and peace on earth." 

And think ye well on Christmas Day 
That love is more than art, 
And the words of love and cheer alway 
Rhyme well within the heart. 

So sing we all on Christmas Day 
Old songs of Christmas cheer. 
God grant us brave, true words to say; 
Yea ! help us live some better way 
In all the glad new year. 



•^ 100^ 



The Walls of Hamelin 

So under shining, summer skies 

The Piper stood with musing eyes ; 

The June wind blew through Hamelin town 

Twitching his torn and tattered gown. 

Their cunning mockery he heard 

Unheeding . . . 

Somewhere near, a bird 
Sang of the sun and laughing dew, 
Sang of the scented earth he knew 
Beyond the town, beyond the moat. 
Where laughter bubbled in the throat, 
Where men were free, where life was warm, 
Unsmitten of the icy storm 
That numbs the heart. 

The Piper stirred 
As at some half-forgotten word ; 
His fingers on his pipes of reed 
Touched all the stops — and paused ; indeed 
Like dreamers in the dawn of day 
Half-waking at the scent of May. 

He lifted up his eyes, and lo ! 
Drab streets unlit b)^ any glow 
Of sun, or silver of the stars ; 
Drab houses locked with iron bars . . . 
A place of faithless, scornful men 
Sunk in their ledger-world again. 



who drove the gray rats from the mart, 
But let them nest within the heart ; 
Selling life with market cries 
That rose like smoke to steely skies. 

Then in the sudden stillness fell 
A thin, sweet strain, a silver spell ; 
And from the pipes of reed there flowed 
Songs of the sea, the winding road, 
The warm earth's scented, sunny mirth, 
And love that had no market worth : 

Love is the heart's desire 
For the moon — for the star. 
With frail wings that aspire 
To all heavens that are. 

No houses built with hands, 
No walls of stone. 
Rise in the laughing lands 
Love calls her own. 

Love goeth where love will 
By land and sea. 
Breaking all bonds until 
The world is free . . . 

And as the reed-notes drifted down 
The cobble streets of Hamelin town 

•^104^ 



Like sudden fragrance in a room 
From rain-washed lilac boughs in bloom 
The burghers stirred uneasily, 
Fearful what thing might come to be 
With such songs sung before the door 
As never in Hamelin town before. 

But in each barred and shuttered house 
The children, still as any mouse, 
Stood motionless to hear that strain 
Drifting like sweet April rain 
From some far land of singing skies 
Whose blue still slumbered in their eyes, 
Some fairyland of golden light 
They half-remembered in the night. 

Still sweet and sweeter flowed the song. 

As clear, cool waters slip along 

A fern-rimmed bank — more sweet, more sweet. 

Till every winding, cobble street 

Was filled with sound of little feet . . . 

Before their eyes the river ran 

With laughter never heard of man, 

And meadow grass and orchard tree 

Sang an ancient melody ; 

The gray walls melted from their sight 

And blue skies filled with morning light. 



Laughing, dancing in the sun, 
Like echoes of the song begun. 
Beyond the walls, beyond the town, 
With streaming hair and flying gown. 
Amid the stillness of the noon, 
Under the golden sun of June, 
They followed, followed, to the hill 
The singing pipes that drew them still 

Love is older than life, 
A nd longer than breath ; 
Love is bolder than strife. 
And stronger than death. 

Over the hills of dawn 
And far away. 
Soft on the dewy lawn 
Her white feet stray. 

Except ye seek as a child. 
With a child's heart. 
Loveliness defiled 
Shall be your part. 

Love goeth where love will 
By land and sea. 
Breaking all bonds until 
The world is free. 

■v^ 106 -if 



Love is the heart's desire 
For the moon — for the star. 
With frail wings that aspire 
To all heavens that are . . . 

Faint and fainter flowed the strain ; 
Fainter — and ceased — and grew again 
Then died away to come no more, 
As with the shutting of a door, 
Save for a far, thin fairy quill 
Blown in the grasses on the hill. 



•^107 -if 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




